


Not Only for Emergencies

by MistressKat



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fake Marriage, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Space Shenanigans, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 16:43:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13298973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat
Summary: “Admit it,” he says, oh so casually putting his glass down and turning more toward McCoy. “You’re quite enjoying the surprises. No day is the same in space, and all that. Makes it interesting, doesn’t it?”





	Not Only for Emergencies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shopfront](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/gifts).



> Written as a fandom_stocking gift for shopfront. I hope this hits your fic likes for ‘slice of life and everyday moments and quiet lulls amongst the drama/absurd/weird and wondrous’…

Jim wakes up without his tentacles on a Wednesday. His skin is also back to pink rather than the scaly iridescent blue it had been last night.  
  
“Well,” he says to his cabin ceiling, “it was fun while it lasted.”  
  
“It was not ‘fun’!” Bones and his tricorder swim into his line of sight. Both look vaguely menacing.  
  
“Just because you’re not the adventurous kind…” Jim tries to bat the tricorder away from his face but unfortunately he tries to do so with limbs he no longer has and so nothing happens.  
  
“Shut up and tell me how you’re feeling,” McCoy says.  
  
Jim does not think the doctor will take kindly to having the inherent conflict of that message pointed out to him.  
  
  
***  
  
  
“I’m never doing that again.” McCoy’s teeth are chattering enough that Jim is mildly concerned. “In fact, I’m never coming on an away mission again.”  
  
Jim knows that both of the statements are blatant lies but he’s feeling generous and lets Bones cling to them. After all, the only other thing he has to cling to is a very small, and a very thin towel.  
  
And, well, Jim himself. But unfortunately Bones is not yet at the stage of hypothermia where need for body heat would override his pissiness.  
  
“It wasn’t that bad,” Jim says. He rubs his own tiny square of a cloth over his hair, jumping a bit from foot to foot to warm up. “The Xtrorians consider it an honour to swim in their Pool of Tranquillity.”  
  
“Do I look bloody tranquil to you!?” McCoy hisses. His hair is completely mussed and there’s a lot – like, _a lot_ – of skin on display so it’s not Jim’s fault his brain-to-mouth filter malfunctions.  
  
“You look hot,” he says and then, because the damage is already done, he throws in a slow once-over the likes of which he’s only before been able to give his best friend when he isn’t looking.  
  
Bones gapes at him for a few seconds, resembling the guppy fish also occupying the Pond of Freezing-Your-Ass-Off, before he straightens to his full height. Annoyingly, the fact that this makes him loom over Jim is also hot.  
  
“Har-har-fucking-har,” he says, and the bitterness in his voice seems entirely incongruous to the situation. Well, what Jim thought the situation was, anyhow.  
  
Before he has a chance to ask for clarification on just what the hell is going on, there’s a perfunctory knock on the door and the High Priestess walks in.  
  
Well, waddles, but given the Xtorians’ physiology that’s to be expected. Bones squeaks in surprise and tries to adjust his scrap of a towel for maximum modesty.  
  
“Excellent!” the Priestess declares, taking in the scene. Her beak clicks in what the briefing notes indicated was the equivalent of a smile. “And now for the anointing with the Sacred Oils of Lucidity!”  
  
“The what now?” Bones’ face goes an alarming shade of purple.  
  
Jim has a bad feeling about this. Or a good one, depending on how you look at it.  
  
  
***

  
“Wait!” Jim is running after his CMO. It’s only a few days after the incident on Xtor. “Can’t we talk about this?”  
  
“No,” Bones spits over his shoulder and stalks on. He doesn’t deign to run though so Jim catches up pretty quickly.  
  
The corridors of the Royal Palace of Hrux’ath are perfectly geometrical and covered in all the colours the human eyes can see, and quite possibly several more they can’t. Jim tries not to look at them too long least he goes into a spontaneous epileptic fit. His doctor had thought that a distinct possibility when they first arrived.  
  
“Look.” Jim grabs McCoy’s sleeve, bringing them both to a halt. “I didn’t know they were going to assume we were…” He trails off, waves an illustrative hand between the two of them.  
  
To his surprise Bones sighs instead shouting, all anger draining out. He looks Jim in the eye in a way that is somehow… sad. “I know,” he says, “I believe you.”  
  
Jim slumps in relief. “Then what’s the problem? It’s only for show…” It won’t even be the first fake marriage he’s taken part in for the sake of interplanetary diplomacy, Jim’s practically got this down to a routine by now.  
  
“Yeah kid,” Bones says, “I get that. The answer’s no.” He turns away without a further word, leaving Jim standing in the middle of the kaleidoscope hallway.  
  
  
***  
  
  
“What’s wrong?” Bones is looking him up and down, clearly searching for any open wounds or new appendages. His hand twitches in the direction of the desk where Jim can see an open med kit.  
  
He sighs, shouldering his way into Bones’ cabin. “Can’t I just visit my best friend without it being some kind of emergency?”  
  
“Or a diplomatic incident.”  
  
“Or a diplomatic incident,” Jim acknowledges. “Okay, so things have been a bit… hectic, lately.”  
  
“Hectic,” Bones repeats flatly. But he doesn’t kick Jim out so he counts it as a win.  
  
They settle on the floor. Bones says it’s just good health and safety practice, not far to fall when they inevitably pass out from either booze or exhaustion. Jim simply likes how it makes him feel; like they’re camping, firmly off-duty, as if the lines he’s set for himself could just shift, disappear, with a simple reach of his hand…  
  
“How’s your marriage?” Bones asks, passing a full glass over.  
  
“Annulled within five minutes after getting back to the ship. As you well know.” Jim takes a drink. Coughs. Takes another. “Cupcake was relieved.”  
  
“I bet.”  
  
They sit in silence for a while, sipping brandy. Jim feels himself relax, limbs growing loose and warm. He’s not sure how much time has passed when Bones finally interrupts the quiet.  
  
“Huh,” he says, making a production of looking at his watch, “Fifteen minutes. And no red alerts.”  
  
“Ha-ha.” Jim rolls his eyes. “A regular comedian you are.”  
  
Bones grins, bumps their shoulders together companionably. “Well, I’m just amazed that we’ve managed this long without any emergencies. No one turning invisible…”  
  
“That was one time!”  
  
“…no one being challenged into a death match…”  
  
“In Spock’s defence, that was—“  
  
“…positively peaceful, this is.”  
  
There’s a smug little grin on McCoy’s face that Jim finds quite… appealing. Still, it won’t do to let the doctor know that. “Bored, are you?” Jim asks.  
  
Bones blinks. “What? No. I just said, this is… nice.” He keeps his eyes studiously on the glass and the amber liquid within it. “Missed this,” he confesses gruffly.  
  
There’s something a lot like hope, warm and soft, fluttering at the bottom of Jim’s stomach. Something that’s making him remember that when he had suggested they test out his tentacles in the bedroom Bones hadn’t said ‘no’ but ‘You’re medically compromised, now shut up while I do another scan’. How, when the Xtrorians were rubbing them with hot oils, Bones’ eyes had not strayed once from Jim’s face, in a careful way that spoke volumes.  
  
And then there was Hrux’ath and the fake marriage that never was. Not perhaps – as Jim had thought – because of the marriage part but because…  
  
“Admit it,” he says, oh so casually putting his glass down and turning more toward McCoy. “You’re quite enjoying the surprises. No day is the same in space, and all that. Makes it interesting, doesn’t it?”  
  
Bones, who knows him better than anyone, is not fooled by Jim’s distraction technique of misdirection and blather. “I admit no such thing.” He narrows his eyes at Jim, taking in the half-crouch he’s in by now, the shit-eating grin that is all bravado. “What are you up to, kid?”  
  
Jim takes a breath, keeps the nerves out of his voice by sheer force of will. He won’t get another opening like this again, nor a better moment to take it. “Surprise,” he whispers and leans in for a kiss; slow and light on the corner of Bones’ mouth at first, and then, when he isn’t immediately pushed away, another, longer one directly on the lips.  
  
That one lingers, their mouths clinging together, Jim’s hands curling around Bones’ shoulders for balance as he hovers over him, not quite straddling but not far off.  
  
“Jim…” Bones breaks off the kiss, looking up at him with eyes that have gone dark, the heat in them burning Jim up from inside. “Are you…?” Bones swallows, licks his lips. “Is this a joke?”  
  
“No,” Jim says, grinning now because Bones’ hands have migrated to his waist, thumbs pressing into the dip of his hips. And that’s an answer right there. “It’s an emergency. A serious one. I think I need a doctor.”  
  
Bones groans. “That was awful,” he says, but his mouth is quirking into a smile almost too wide to kiss.  
  
Almost.


End file.
